Relative Bleed
by Dogmatix
Summary: Desmond is a stranger in a strange land.


Desmond ran, desperate and panicked, looking for anything familiar. He'd come to in a park, sitting staring into space before he'd snapped back to himself, but his head was all a muddle, and his surroundings were strange and so very alien. Towers rose higher than skyscrapers, seeming to touch the moons – yes _moons_, plural. Down here in the shadows there was barely enough light to keep the scraggly trees and half-dead grass alive, and he didn't recognize the trees either. He wasn't in New York, and he definitely wasn't in Italy.

He walked quickly now, recovering his breath. The buildings were lower here, and it was a bit brighter, but still he couldn't find anything familiar. It helped though, being able to see the open sky more – he felt less like he was trapped in a shrinking box now. The people here were still people even if the clothes were strange, but the cars moved too fast, precise and orderly like an intricate dance where everyone knew the moves except him. He pulled the white hood down lower over his face, denying himself another glimpse of the impossible moons hanging washed out and pale in the cool, pale-blue sky. He stepped into a slice of sunshine where it knifed between the buildings and stuttered to a halt, letting the familiar warmth press against him.

Someone hissed furious words as a hand clamped on his wrist like an iron band.

"G-get away from me!" Desmond yanked his arm to try and dislodge the hand, but to no avail. "Who are you?"

There was a frozen moment as the woman looked at him in shock. Her hair was short and violently purple. Her eyes were strange, seeming almost to have an extra, moving ring around the iris, and her skin was just a shade too pale-blue to be natural.

He had his hidden blade, he could feel its comforting weight on his fore-arm, but some part of him didn't want to hurt the woman. "What do you want?" Desmond asked almost in a wail. He didn't know where he was or how he'd gotten there, and even being in Italy would be better than this.

"Desmond?" the woman asked, her accent odd.

"Yes?"

Her grip loosened, and Desmond contemplated running for a second. But where would that get him, and the woman at least knew his name, that was somewhere to start, right?

She looked at him pensively, biting her lip, then seemed to come to a decision. "Come with me," she said, words still oddly stilted. She tugged him along behind her, and he went.

They walked a block or two, then straight towards the sheer, metallic-glassy sides of one of the buildings, which seemed to flow open as the woman approached.

Desmond tensed and wanted to dig his heels in, but he'd seen this same phenomenon a few times before, and so he let himself be pulled into the building, flinching automatically as he passed through the wall himself.

The woman's glance back at him was equal parts dismay and pity, and Desmond lifted his chin defiantly to give her a weak glare. She quirked a faint smile at him, and something in his chest relaxed.

At least the stairs were pretty much stairs, and the rooftop looked out over the sprawling, dazzling city that hunched up into the sky. On the other side more buildings stretched out, lower and bulkier, eventually becoming apartment buildings and houses, he assumed. Off in the distance, there might have been a mountain range, or maybe it was only another city.

"Do you know who I am?" the woman asked, sitting on the ledge of metal-glass rose up to hip height around the edge of the roof.

"No," Desmond admitted.

She seemed to be thinking something over, then nodded. "Nothing is true…" she let it trail off.

"Everything is permitted," Desmond finished automatically, eyes widening. "You're an Assassin!"

She nodded. "My name is Alliana Treyson. I am your ally, and, perhaps, your friend."

Desmond blinked over into Eagle Vision, kicking himself for not doing so earlier, and Alliana glowed a true, vibrant blue. He returned his sight not normal, and nodded. "Okay." Well, it wasn't any good putting it off. "Alliana, I have some questions."

"Please ask. Although you will not like the answers, I think."

She certainly didn't pull her punches. Desmond braced himself. "What happened? Where am I, and why's my memory so scrambled?"

"You are aware of the Bleeding Effect, yes?"

"Yeah?" Desmond frowned.

"What you are experiencing now is a form of that."

"You mean this is all a hallucination?"

"Not exactly. You might be pleased to know that you succeeded, also. You and your _nakama_, your allies, managed to obstruct the Templars in their ultimate goal."

Desmond stood, shocked. They'd succeeded? Past tense? How much time was he missing?

"But the Templars were not eradicated, I am sorry to say," Alliana continued. "They hid themselves for a time, but slowly gained strength until they challenge us again. Now, we are once more in a deadly struggle with them, for stakes much higher than a single planet."

Desmond nearly sat down. "W-what?" he squeaked.

Alliana rose from her seat and when she stood before him, she took his hand in her soft ones. "We have once again turned to the past for help, to the greatest Master Assassins of the ages, to their knowledge and skills. But for all the improvements we have made, the Animus still sparks the Bleeding Effect in those who use it overmuch."

"And since I was already suffering from it…"

Alliana huffed, looking conflicted. "That does make your case…. interesting." She looked at him compassionately. "You lived a great life. You married twice, and you and your husband had three children by your wife. You founded one of the great lines of Assassins, and one of your descendants volunteered to search out the secrets from your life that we need so desperately now."

Desmond opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"Desmond," Alliana squeezed his hand and brought it up, placing it on his own chest. "You are the Bleeding Effect."

Desmond felt the soft swells of breasts, and looked down at his - _her_ chest. "oh-" he managed as the world swirled and went black.

"Miridin, Miridin, c'mon, don't faint on me now," Alliana said tensely as she held up her _nakama_, the black-haired Assassin slumping in her arms.

Miridin found her feet again, but didn't let Alliana go, holding onto her with tightly. "I," she struggled to get the words out, needing to prove to herself that she was real, more than just some long-dead Assassin wandering in a strange century. "I thought I was him. I _was_ him. Alliana-" Miridin choked off, hugging tighter.

"It's okay, it'll be okay. We're so close, it's almost over," Alliana murmured softly as she hugged back fiercely. The episodes were getting longer, more overwhelming. They'd made a lot of improvements on the Animus, but if they _didn't_ finish soon, the damage might be too much to ever fix.

Eventually the two Assassins stood back from each other. "We-we should get back," Miridin said resignedly. And then, because she always had been resilient, she grinned weakly up at Alliana. "And I didn't know you spoke English, that's been dead for over a century now."

"I also speak Arabic and Italian and Chinese, you know," Alliana grinned back. "I am a woman of many talents, and don't you forget it."

"You didn't really speak to Altair when I was Bleeding him?" Miridin asked, frowning.

"Well, you were a lot more reasonable as Desmond than as Altair. You actually gave me a chance to talk, for one," Alliana said dryly. But she didn't let go of her _nakama_'s hand, and Miridin didn't try to pull away.

FIN

_nakama_ - friend/ally/brother-in-arms


End file.
